


One Million Coffins

by RayVermilion



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi | Fire Emblem: Binding Blade
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 23:05:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11390298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayVermilion/pseuds/RayVermilion
Summary: Roy and Guinevere consider the impact that the war had on them and if there is hope for the future.





	One Million Coffins

Roy and his army celebrated around the fire on the night of Zephiel’s death. The men were sitting on the ground, drinking from their tankards, as the women walked with platters of beef and fried fish, but Roy noticed Guinevere wasn’t with them.

He tapped the shoulder of the knight next to him. “Have you seen Guinevere?”

The knight sipped his ale. “Who cares? It’s party time.”

“I’m going to find her,” Roy said, getting up until the knight gripped his shoulder.

“She’s probably fine,” the knight said, holding his tankard towards him. “Come. Drink your fill.”

Roy nudged it away. “After I find her.”

The knight laughed. “Suit yourself.” He stood up, raising his tankard so fast that some of the ale spilled out. “Tonight is our night. We won!”

Everyone stood and cheered, ‘Victory!’ while raising their fists and their drinks. Roy pushed through the crowd, the party’s noise fading as he approached the tents. The wind made their flaps wave like laundry on a clothesline. Then he heard sobbing from a tent, and when he peered inside, Guinevere was sitting on a cot with her face in her hands. Roy tapped her shoulder. When she looked up, the lamp’s light made the tears glisten on her face.

He held out a handkerchief. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” Guinevere said, grabbing it.

“You should eat,” Roy said, sitting beside her. “You’ll feel better.”

Guinevere wiped her eyes. “I’m not hungry.”

“I’m sorry about Zephiel.”

“It’s not your fault. But it’s still tragic. He was kind when we were kids. It’s crazy how much he changed.”

“How different was he?”

“One time he gave me a pet fox, but our father killed it. All because he hated Zephiel.”

Roy gasped. “That’s awful.”

“I should have did something,” Guinevere said, weeping. “I just let it happen. Because of me, our father changed Zephiel. If I was strong, things would have been different; this war wouldn’t have happened.”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

“But it is my fault,” Guinevere said with her hand over her chest.

“You tried your best. Life was hard on you too. Not just him.”

“He had it worse.”

Roy touched her shoulder. “You’re not weak. You escaped from the enemy _twice_.”

“Only because of other people.”

“But you still did it. That takes courage. You helped end the war.”

“You ended it. Not me.”

“You’re going to have power. You’re the heir to Bern’s throne now.”

Guinevere stood up. “Suppose I become Bern’s queen. Then what? I’m Zephiel’s traitorous sister. The citizens wouldn’t recognize my rule.”

“When the treaty gets made, I could tell the other generals to make you Bern’s ruler. You’ll have power.”

“And I would waste it. People died cause of me. Because I was an indecisive kid. What kind of ruler is that?”

“They died cause of Zephiel. It’s his fault. Not yours. You did what you could.”

Guinevere stared at him. “Besides, they wouldn’t listen to you. They’ll want to punish Bern. You can’t change that.”

Roy scratched his hair. “Maybe. But we still have to try.”

“It’s useless.”

“It’s not.”

“What can I do if I couldn’t even save my brother?”

“The future is ours. You have to accept what happened. You need a funeral.”

“As if the Lycian people would let me.”

“Then it’ll be just us. We can even do it tonight.”

“With what body?”

“We still have it,” Roy said, as he got up and opened the tent’s flaps. Guinevere stood next to him, and he pointed to a carriage in the distance. “Right there. I didn’t like it, but the other generals wanted proof of his death. You shouldn’t look at the corpse though.”

“Why not?”

“They severed his head.”

“Oh my god,” Guinevere said, putting her hands over her mouth.

“They’ll probably dump the body in the morning. Now’s the best time.”

“Won’t they look for it?”

“I’ll tell them I burned it.”

Guinevere sat back on the cot. She placed her fingertips on her forehead.

Roy walked towards her. “It’s up to you, but you should do it.”

She sat in silence as the lamp’s fire flickered. When Roy turned around and lifted the tent’s flap, Guinevere stood up.

“I’ll do it,” she said, clutching her sleeve. And with that, they headed towards the carriage.

 

Roy dragged the coffin with rope that would have burned his hands if he wasn’t wearing gloves. Guinevere walked beside him, carrying the lamp in one hand and a shovel in the other. The owls hooted, and the leaves crunched under their feet as the coffin being dragged on the ground sounded like a sled scraping against cement. Every so often, Roy stopped to massage his biceps while Guinevere stared at the coffin. The little lighting from the lamp made them feel like they were walking through a dungeon corridor rather than a forest. But despite that, its heat felt somewhat comforting in the night’s breeze. They continued until there was an area where the leaf litter was scarce on the ground.

Roy released the rope. “Here is good.” He stuck out his hand. “Pass the shovel.”

Guinevere set the lamp on the coffin.

“Pass it,” Roy said, moving his fingers inward as if he were squeezing a ball.

“I’ll dig,” Guinevere said, gripping the shovel.

“You’ll ruin your shoes. And your dress.”

Guinevere stuck the shovel into the earth. “They’re replaceable.” She tossed the dirt aside. “You carried his coffin, so I’ll dig.”

Roy picked up the lamp, and it illuminated Guinevere’s face, which paid attention only to the hole as a pile of soil accumulated to her left. With such an expression on her face, she could be mistaken for a pegasus knight with how she stabbed the earth with the shovel. Now she was standing in the hole that was as high as her knees, but after five minutes, she leaned against the shovel, panting.

Roy raised his hand. “I can finish it.”

“I’m fine,” Guinevere said, lifting herself up with the shovel like an elderly person with a cane.

Roy stepped forward, but stopped. The more soil Guinevere tossed, the more she struggled to lift her arms until the shovel dropped from her hands.

“I can’t even dig a hole for my brother,” Guinevere said, banging the ground with her fists. “I’m worthless.”

“You’re not,” Roy said, getting on one knee. He held out his hand.

Guinevere looked up at him. “I’m just a burden. First on my brother. Then the entire continent. And now you.”

“Sometimes we need help. I didn’t end the war by myself. You can change the world just as much as me.”

“But what’s the point? Who’s to say another tyrant won’t appear?”

“Then we just do our best. You can’t assume people are evil like Zephiel did. They might do bad things, but we want peace in the end.”

When Guinevere grabbed Roy’s hand, he pulled her out. Then he picked up the shovel. When the hole became wide enough from his digging, he and Guinevere grabbed the coffin’s sides and inserted it into the earth. Roy buried the coffin and patted the mound with the shovel’s blade. Guinevere knelt and clasped her hands in prayer while Roy closed his eyes. They remained like this in silence. Roy opened his eyes. “We should return.”

Guinevere put her hands in her lap. “Let’s stay a while longer.”

“You sure?”

“I can’t say goodbye.”

“Give it time,” Roy said, patting her back. ”It’s hard, but you’ll feel better.”

“Maybe for one death. But how about a million?”

Roy stayed silent and lowered his head.

“While digging, I thought about everyone in Elibe. How they must be digging graves too. Why is peace so hard to achieve?

“I wish I knew.”

Guinevere wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “Every time I think about that, I can’t stop crying. What’s in store for us? What can we do?” What can we change? How can we stop another war happening? Who’s to say we won’t change like my brother.”

“I wish I had answers, but I don’t. Another war can happen, but if it does, we’ll just end it. No matter what happens, it’s better to try something than nothing. We can’t think everything we do means nothing. There’s a purpose. We can’t doubt ourselves. We have to carry out peace.”

“No doubt? How are you so confident?”

“If you doubt yourself, nothing gets done. We’ll bring peace. Now that’s a true victory. We just have to gamble on the outcome. That’s all we can do.”

Roy pointed towards the sky. “See. The sky is like our future.”

Guinevere looked up as well. “Dark and ominous.”

“Clear and leading to a bright tomorrow.”

“So optimistic.”

“If I wasn’t, I’d hesitate too much. I can’t do that in battle.”

“I suppose.”

They remained there in silence, gazing at the sky that was as dark as a shaman’s magic. Roy figured Guinevere would visit this place often in the future. But never thought about a death toll for the war; about all the people he killed or were killed on either side. For the past few months, their goal was clear—defeat Zephiel. But in following this objective, he never cared about how the rest of Elibe was feeling. The anxiety they must be going through as they wonder if their loved ones survived. And for those that died, it made Roy question if there was any meaning for those deaths. This was no fight for independence. No struggle against an oppressor. Just a man that started a war so he could leave corpses in his path.

Roy imagined a cemetery for the people that died. But that if he were to enter it, he could feel a million coffins, stacking upwards, on his hunched shoulders. As he walks through, he’ll have to pass by each grave to remove a coffin’s weight, and the names on the tombstones would make him wonder which ones he was responsible for sending here. Or perhaps as time goes on, he’ll continue to carry those caskets until someone to carries his own.


End file.
